The summer sun filtered gently through the canopy above, dappling the grass in gold. Crickets chirped faintly in the distance, and the soft roar of a nearby waterfall gave everything a peaceful, cinematic soundtrack. It was the kind of day that felt almost too perfect — like something bottled in a memory long before it had even ended.
Zane adjusted the settings on his portable recorder, capturing the ambient sounds — the chirps, the breeze, the gentle hum of life around them. But more than anything, he wanted to capture her. Not just Sunny's voice or laughter, but the quiet rustle of her pencil on paper, the way her slippers shifted as she crossed her legs, and the slight, airy hum she made when she concentrated.
Sunny sat a few feet away on a folded mat, sketchbook balanced in her lap. Her pencil moved fluidly as her gaze flicked between the landscape and the page. She wore a white summer dress, breezy and loose, with soft yellow flowers scattered across the hem. Her slippers matched in color — priceless, adorably cute, and utterly her. Strands of her hair swayed around her cheek as she squinted into the sunlight.
Zane smiled, watching her. He raised his mic. Click. A soft snap of her pencil meeting paper.
"Stop recording meee," she said without looking up, though the blush rising to her cheeks gave her away.
"You're my favorite subject," he said, unapologetically.
She made a face. "I'm drawing this place to remember it. You're trying to immortalize me."
"Exactly."
He sat down beside her, nudging her knee with his. Sunny lowered her pencil, and they exchanged a look — one of those quiet, loaded glances that said, This is a core memory in the making.
They'd brought everything themselves. Homemade sandwiches (which Sunny had tried to cut into perfect hearts — Zane's were more abstract), a cold fruit salad tucked in a container, lemon cookies, and of course, a bottle of orange ramune for her. The sound of the marble clinking as he opened it made her eyes sparkle.
They sat on the picnic blanket under the shade of a tall tree, the waterfall in full view beside them, its river bubbling down a gentle slope. Laughter filled the air as they fed each other bites — Sunny smearing a dab of jam on his nose on purpose, Zane retaliating by pretending to miss her mouth completely.
"You've got watermelon juice on your cheek," he said, leaning in to kiss it off. Sunny squeaked, smacking his chest. "Zane!"
He only grinned, proud.
After they finished eating, they kicked off their shoes and walked down to the river. The water was crystal clear and icy cold, but refreshing against the heat of the day. They sat side by side on a flat stone near the base of the waterfall, dipping their feet in and letting the cool water rush around their ankles.
"Don't fall in," Sunny warned.
"I would never—"
She shoved him. Not hard. But enough.
Zane's arms flailed dramatically as he splashed into the shallow river with a yelp. "Suuuunnnny!"
She was already laughing, doubled over with delight. "You said you'd never!"
Dripping, Zane stood up and gave her a look — playful, dangerous.
"No. Zane, no—" she backed up as he lunged, scooping her up and hauling her into the water with him.
They both went down with a splash, squealing and laughing, kicking and splashing water at each other like two chaotic kids. Her dress clung to her like a second skin, and his hair was dripping into his eyes, but they couldn't stop laughing.
Their water fight lasted far too long, until they were breathless, soaked, and sprawled out on the warm rocks to dry in the sun. Sunny rested her head on his shoulder, their hands linked between them.
"Let's never forget this," she whispered, eyelids fluttering closed.
Zane pressed a soft kiss to her temple. "Already recording."
And in that moment — tangled up in sunlight, water droplets, and laughter — it really did feel like nothing could ruin the peace they'd found. Not fame. Not fear. Not what came tomorrow.
Just them. Right here. Right now.
---
The sun warmed the rocks beneath them as they lay side by side, drying off under a canopy of shifting green leaves. Sunny's laughter had softened into a quiet, satisfied hum. Her damp dress clung to her legs, the hem still dripping slightly into the grass, but she didn't seem to mind. Neither did Zane. He was leaning on one elbow, watching her — every breath she took, every shift of light in her eyes.
She turned to him, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering as her gaze held his.
Zane blinked. "What?"
But she didn't answer. Instead, she leaned in, slowly, deliberately, and kissed him. It wasn't playful or teasing like before. It was slower. Deeper. The kind that made his heartbeat still and rush all at once.
Her hand slid along his chest, still damp from the river. Her fingertips trailed with purpose. Zane's breath hitched.
She pulled back just enough to meet his eyes — searching, asking, without saying a word.
"…Here?" he whispered.
Her expression was quiet, yet sure. She tilted her head, the corners of her lips lifting just slightly. The trust in her eyes was unmistakable.
Zane looked around once, scanning the quiet clearing. No one. Just trees, the waterfall, the hush of summer wrapped around them like a secret.
But even if someone had been there — he didn't think it would've changed anything. Not now. Not when her body pressed gently into his, when her hands ran along his shoulders like she was tracing something sacred. This moment felt like theirs. Untouchable.
He kissed her again — this time slower, with both hands cradling her face, grounding her. Their soaked clothes peeled away with careful, quiet urgency, each touch exchanged with silent understanding. The grass was soft, the air warm, and everything around them seemed to disappear.
It wasn't rushed. It wasn't about thrill.
It was closeness. Celebration. A memory sealed not in film or ink, but in skin and breath and sun.
Later, as she lay with her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart beneath her ear, Zane brushed his fingers gently down her spine. Neither of them spoke for a while. There was nothing that needed to be said.
They had written a moment into the world — one they'd carry quietly with them, even as everything else changed.
---
Later that day, as the sky began to shift from sapphire to soft gold, Sunny's phone buzzed in her bag. She was still lying beside Zane on the picnic blanket, eyes half-lidded from the sun and laughter.
Zane stretched and looked over her shoulder as she unlocked it. "Group chat?"
"Yeah," she said, sitting up a bit straighter. "It's… Laura."
That caught his attention. Sunny blinked at the message for a second longer before reading it aloud:
Laura: Would you guys want to hang out tonight? Nothing fancy. I was thinking… maybe the beach? Just the four of us. Firepit, food, maybe some music. I'll bring the blankets.
Sunny glanced at Zane, smiling. "She never plans stuff like this."
Zane was already grinning. "Then we're absolutely going."
---
That evening, the four of them met at the nearby beach — a quiet, slightly tucked-away stretch of sand just far enough from the main crowds. The firepit Laura had mentioned was already set up, a modest circle of stones with logs and kindling. Axel had clearly been there early, tending to it like it was a project.
Sunny spotted Laura standing near the firepit, her hands shoved in the pockets of her long knit cardigan, her hair loose and catching the wind. She looked more relaxed than she had been in a while — maybe even lighter, and slowed her pace instinctively.
She knew Laura didn't always do well with hugs — or touch in general. But something about the quiet way she stood there, cardigan sleeves pulled over her hands, watching the firelight flicker… it tugged at Sunny's chest.
So she didn't overthink it.
She stepped forward, slowly at first — a moment's hesitation — but then let instinct guide her. She wrapped her arms around Laura in a gentle, unhurried hug. Not tight. Not overwhelming. Just present.
Laura stiffened for a second, startled — she always was — but then, like letting out a long-held breath, she relaxed. This time, she didn't just tolerate it.
She hugged Sunny back.
Properly.
"Thanks for coming," she murmured, her voice quieter than usual.
Sunny smiled, chin still resting lightly on her shoulder. "This was a really great idea."
When they pulled apart, Laura looked… a little softer. Not changed, exactly. But lighter. Like she was beginning to let people in — just enough.
And Sunny didn't say anything else. She didn't need to.
Zane offered a casual salute as he strolled up, setting down the bag of skewers and drinks they'd brought. "Didn't think we'd ever get a beach invite from you, Hirase."
Laura gave a faint smirk. "I know. It surprised me too."
But the moment the name left his lips — Hirase — something shifted. It was subtle, but Zane caught it. A flicker in her expression. Her smirk didn't quite reach her eyes. Her shoulders tensed, just barely.
She covered it quickly, pretending to be unbothered, as she turned toward the fire and adjusted a log with the fire poker. But Zane had learned to notice the small things. And that... was a crack in the mask.
He didn't press. Didn't say anything.
But he didn't use the name again either.
He just stepped beside her, quietly helping arrange the food while the flames danced between them. Something unspoken passed through the silence — a thread of understanding, light but steady.
Whatever Hirase meant to her, he realized… it wasn't something she wanted to carry anymore.
And that was enough for him to let it go.
---
They set up camp around the growing fire — Axel passed out reusable plates and skewers, and Zane opened a cooler full of homemade sides and Sunny's favorite ramune. The light dimmed into that perfect in-between: warm firelight and twilight sky. The stars were just beginning to peek through.
They ate slowly, without urgency, letting the evening stretch long and warm around them. The fire crackled quietly, casting a soft orange glow across their faces as the sky above faded into deep blue. The conversation wandered from casual gossip — local cafes, weird dreams, Zane's ongoing beef with a vending machine that stole his coins — to scattered, softer memories. No one rushed. No one needed to.
Sunny had curled up against Zane's side, legs tucked neatly beneath her summer dress, her head resting lightly on his shoulder. Zane lazily fed her a grilled skewer in between teasing her about her marshmallow technique.
Axel, seated beside Laura, sat comfortably close. Their hands found each other instinctively, fingers loosely entwined. It wasn't dramatic, just grounding — something that said, I'm here.
Eventually, Sunny perked up. "Okay. We have to make s'mores."
She pulled out a little bag of marshmallows and chocolate squares, holding them up triumphantly like she'd been waiting all night for this moment. Axel found the pack of graham crackers in the food bag Zane had carried.
"You've done this before, right?" Sunny asked Laura as she skewered a marshmallow with practiced precision.
Laura tilted her head, slightly confused. "I've… heard of them," she admitted. "But I've never actually tried one."
Zane's jaw dropped, mock-offended. "Excuse me? You've lived this long without knowing the joy of gooey, sugar-induced chaos?"
Laura raised a brow. "I was raised on imported chocolates and exact calorie counts."
"Well, that ends tonight," Axel said, already roasting one for her with the patience of a craftsman.
They all watched as she took the finished s'more, holding it delicately like it might explode. She inspected it briefly, then took a tentative bite. Her eyes widened slightly — more in surprise than delight — and she slowly chewed while the group leaned in with expectation.
"…Sweet," she said, finally. "Very sweet. Maybe… too sweet?"
Sunny laughed. "Okay, fair. It's a sugar bomb. But you ate it!"
Laura nodded and set the rest down on a napkin. "One bite is enough. But I understand the appeal."
"Alright, then it's time," Zane declared, grabbing two marshmallows and skewering them. "For the Marshmallow Showdown."
Sunny immediately lit up. "You're on."
The two crouched over the fire, eyes locked like duelists. Each was determined to toast the perfect marshmallow — golden, gooey, not burnt. The first round went to Zane, who smugly presented his perfectly puffed piece. Sunny retaliated by shoving hers directly into his mouth before claiming victory on round two with a dramatic flourish.
Axel watched them, amused. Laura sipped from a chilled bottle of ice tea, her head gently leaning against his shoulder as the chaos unfolded. It was silly. It was messy. And for once, she didn't feel out of place.
Maybe this was the kind of evening she never knew she needed — simple, warm, imperfect.
Real.
---
At some point, Axel pulled out his guitar — the one that always seemed to follow him like an extra limb. He tuned it with casual ease, settling onto a driftwood log near the fire as the sun dipped low, casting golden light across the sand. With practiced fingers, he strummed a few familiar chords, the melodies drifting into the air and weaving between the sound of crashing waves.
Zane leaned back on his elbows beside Sunny, eyes half-lidded, humming along now and then. Occasionally, he'd reach for his phone to record a snippet, not saying anything, but capturing the moment like it was something he'd want to bottle up and keep. He wasn't the one playing tonight — that role was Axel's — but he still felt the rhythm in his bones, like music never quite left him alone.
When Axel transitioned into a soft instrumental version of one of Euphony Trio's early tracks, Sunny lit up. She scooted closer to Laura and pulled her gently into the sway of the music, both of them laughing as they tried to keep in sync. Zane watched with a quiet smile, fingers tapping against his knee in time.
And though no one said it out loud, they all felt it — this was one of those nights. The kind they'd remember. The kind that asked for nothing more than being there.
---
As the night wore on, the fire dimmed to soft, glowing embers. Their conversations slowed, stretching into longer pauses filled by the sound of waves crashing against the shore. The sea breeze picked up slightly, cooler now, tousling their hair and brushing against exposed skin.
Sunny was the first to drift off, curled up beside Zane with her head on his chest, rising and falling with each quiet breath he took. He kept an arm wrapped around her, one hand still lazily brushing her back. Laura, sitting cross-legged with a blanket draped around her shoulders, leaned lightly against Axel's side. They didn't say much. They didn't need to. His hoodie hung loosely over her frame, and his thumb gently traced circles against her knee. The stars were still bright above, but the moon had begun to dip closer to the horizon.
Eventually, even Axel gave in to the lull of sleep, slumping back in the sand with Laura beside him, her head resting against his chest. Their shoes were forgotten somewhere near the firepit, and the leftovers were half-covered with a towel Zane had tossed over in a lazy attempt at "cleaning."
None of them planned to fall asleep — it just… happened. Peacefully. Naturally. The kind of sleep that only comes when you feel safe, content, and gently held by the presence of people who understand you.
---
By the time the sun began to rise, casting warm orange light across the shore, the fire was completely out — nothing left but faint smoke curling from the last burnt logs.
Sunny stirred first, groaning as she blinked up at the changing sky. "Ugh… why do I feel like I slept in a sandbox?"
Zane shifted beside her, rubbing his eyes and glancing down at the sand clinging to her hair. "Because you did."
Laura sat up next, brushing sand from her cheek and blinking, mildly disoriented. Her expression softened when she realized she was still wrapped in Axel's hoodie, his arms now around her waist. "Did we… sleep here all night?"
Axel gave a soft grunt as he sat up. "Looks like it. Guess that smore crash hit harder than we thought."
A cool breeze rolled in off the sea, making them all shiver a little. Sunny tugged her cardigan tighter, her toes curling in the sand. "Okay. I'm freezing."
Zane pulled her in again and smirked. "Then we better get breakfast. My treat. To celebrate… waking up alive."
They all laughed — tired, unshowered, still sandy — but somehow lighter than the day before. It wasn't just another night gone by. It was a memory now. A quiet one. A shared one. And one they'd carry into the next chapter, together.